


Alts drait zikh arum broit un toit

by bevmantle



Category: Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: Brief Mention of Anti-Semitism, Dan Cain's First Shabbat, Jewish Character, Jewish Herbert West, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 03:19:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12245931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevmantle/pseuds/bevmantle
Summary: “Daniel. You’re home. Why,” Herbert said.“Uh—I forgot I swapped shifts,” Dan said. “Are you okay? I’m sorry for, uh, interrupting your—this,” he said, gesturing at what was now a dripping, ashy mess on the table.Herbert pressed his lips together tightly. “You should be.”Or, the one where Dan walks in on Herbert observing Shabbat and is a real goy about it.





	Alts drait zikh arum broit un toit

Dan usually had rounds on Friday nights. His shift started a little before sundown, and tended to run pretty late. So it was typical for Dan to leave home in the late afternoon and stagger in long after night had fallen, moaning about how hungry he was. After a few sighs and groans, he would go into the kitchen to cook, offering half of whatever he made to Herbert. Usually.

This particular Friday, Dan made it all the way to the hospital before remembering that he had offered to trade shifts with another doctor who had wanted a Tuesday shift covered. Dan shook his head, angry with himself for wasting time that could have been spent catching up on much-needed sleep, or, more realistically, helping Herbert with another one of his bizarre experiments. But he was already here, so Dan went inside anyway, wanting to make sure that everything was squared away with the other doctor. Then he left, got back into his car, and made the short drive home.

“Herbert?” Dan called, pushing the front door open.

No answer. Herbert was probably down in the lab. Dan wasn’t really sure what the other man got up to while he was in class, but he assumed Herbert was just hard at work in the basement—he always was.

Dan rapped at the basement door. “Herb?”

Still nothing. Boy, Herbert must really be onto something down there.

“Herbert, I’m coming down,” Dan called.

He opened the door and headed down the stairs. As he descended, he could hear Herbert shuffling around, and as he drew closer, he caught the distinctive _shck!_ of a match being struck.

Dan ducked out of the stairwell, looking towards the island where Herbert conducted most of his research.

Herbert stood at the island with his back to Dan. Two tall white candles burned in front of him. There was also a silver cup that looked like it was probably an antique, as well as a bottle of wine and a mostly-covered loaf of challah.

“Herbert?”

Herbert jumped and tried to turn at the same time, and ended up smacking his knee into the island, knocking over one of the candles. The flame caught the corner of Herbert’s notepad, which Herbert swiftly doused by _also_ knocking over the cup, which, Dan now noticed, had been full of wine.

Herbert took a deep breath. He took several deep breaths. He turned to Dan.

“Daniel. You’re home. Why,” he said.

“Uh—I forgot I swapped shifts,” Dan said. “Are you okay? I’m sorry for, uh, interrupting your—this,” he said, gesturing at what was now a dripping, ashy mess on the table.

Herbert pressed his lips together tightly. “You should be.”

Dan said nothing, just looked embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck.

Herbert glared at him.

“Do you, uh…do you want me to leave?” Dan said.

Herbert turned back to the table. “You’re a grown man. You can do what you like.”

Dan watched as Herbert picked up his sopping notebook by the corner and dropped it unceremoniously into the trash. Herbert then righted the cup, refilling it with wine, and placed the candle back next to the other one, where it had been before Dan had surprised him. Herbert pulled a box of matches from his breast pocket and shook out a match, striking it against the side of the box. He relit the candle.

Herbert waved his hands over the candles before bringing them up to his face to cover his eyes.

“Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha’olam, asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu l’hadlik ner shel Shabbat.”

“Amen,” Dan murmured. Herbert turned and gave him a funny look. Dan shrugged, giving a sheepish smile in return. Herbert exhaled, then gestured for Dan to come stand next to him. Dan’s smile broadened, and he stepped forward.

Herbert performed each ritual step tenderly and with a certain amount of reverence. He held the cup of wine aloft and said Kiddush, taking a sip of wine and then offering it to Dan as an afterthought, as if he had forgotten the other man’s presence. Dan didn’t really mind. He watched Herbert with an innocent sort of curiosity as the prayers washed over him, enjoying how the light from the candles softened Herbert’s face in a way the hospital fluorescents rarely could.

Herbert said HaMotzi over the challah and took a piece for himself, then passed the loaf to Dan and moved to put the wine away.

“There are leftovers from last night in the fridge if you want some,” Dan said around the chunk of bread in his mouth.

“Thank you,” Herbert said stiffly.

Dan swallowed his challah. A moment passed, and neither man moved. Then Dan began to sing softly. “Shalom Aleichem, malachei hashareit, malachei Elyon…”

Herbert’s eyes widened. He let Dan finish the first verse, and when Dan paused, trying to gauge Herbert’s reaction, Herbert picked up where he had left off. Dan grinned, and then began singing again, wanting to finish the song together. When they finished, Herbert seemed much more relaxed.

“I didn’t know you were Jewish, Daniel,” Herbert said, sounding pleased.

“I’m not,” Dan said.

Herbert sighed. “Unfortunate.”

Dan smiled. “But you want to know how I know the song.”

“Well—yes.”

Dan laughed. “My sister converted a few years ago when she got married, her husband wanted the kids to be raised Jewish. I’ve been to a Shabbat dinner here and there.”

“Oh,” Herbert said, and then didn’t say anything else.

“You do all this every Friday night while I’m in class?” Dan prompted him.

“Yes,” Herbert said.

“How come you never said anything?”

“Why should I?”

Dan looked almost offended. “Well, isn’t it important to you?”

“Yes. So are a lot of things. That doesn’t mean I should advertise it,” Herbert looked at Dan, then looked pointedly at the bottles of reagent littering the desk.

“You told me about the reagent, though,” Dan pointed out.

“Only because I needed your help with my work! And, may I point out, the only reason you know anything about what’s _important_ to me at all is because you always come crashing down the stairs while I’m in the middle of it!”

Dan looked like he wanted to argue, but then thought better of it. “I guess you’re right,” he said, clearly not happy about it.

“I am,” Herbert said.

“Still, Herbert, you could have said _something_ ," Dan said.

“And risk losing my accommodations and my lab because I’m a Jew? No thanks,” Herbert said, his lip curling.

“How could you think I would do that to you?” Dan sounded hurt.

“How could I not?” Herbert said simply.

Dan didn’t have an answer.

“It’s not your fault,” Herbert said. “That’s just how it is.”

Dan frowned, but didn’t pursue it, and an uncomfortable silence descended. Finally, Dan spoke again.

“I didn’t think you believed in God,” he said.

“I don’t.”

“Oh. Then why—?”

“Tradition. Routine.” Herbert looked away. “A reminder.”

“Oh,” Dan said again. He felt very far away from Herbert in that moment, realizing that there were many things about Herbert that he didn’t know, and which he would probably never know.

“I can teach you the prayers next time. If you want,” Herbert said, his cheeks and ears dusted with pink.

Dan blinked, and all of a sudden he was acutely aware that he had been wrong, and that Herbert was much, much closer to him than he had thought.

“Yeah,” Dan said, locking eyes with Herbert. “I would really like that.”

Herbert nodded, just once, and Dan had to duck his head so that Herbert wouldn’t catch him blushing in the candlelight.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a Yiddish proverb that translates to "Everything revolves around bread and death."
> 
> This is a totally self-indulgent fic that I wrote because I'm Jewish and I wanted to see some Jewish Herbert West content. This is literally the first fic I've finished in like four years so, you're welcome. L'shanah tovah y'all!


End file.
